


Throw in the Towel

by Velociraptor_Hands



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velociraptor_Hands/pseuds/Velociraptor_Hands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if of its own accord, Chris’s hand had swung out and smacked one of Tom’s pale buttocks, leaving behind a startlingly red mark that was quickly fading.  There was moment of shocked silence and then Chris opened his mouth to apologize but Tom recovered first, “Did you just….What was <i>that</i> for?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throw in the Towel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannibalisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalisms/gifts).



The whole thing had been by accident, or so Chris thought.  It was quite possible his subconscious had simply given up on his conscious mind and taken over, no longer able to resist what was in front of him. Tom’s perfectly formed rear was always a temptation, a glorious punctuation to his endless legs.  When they hugged or kissed, Chris’s hands were forever finding their way down Tom’s waist to his narrow hips and then to his pert, nicely rounded ass.  Cupping it, massaging it, petting it, as long as he had a handful Chris was happy.  And so, it seemed, was Tom.  
  
This morning, however, Chris’s wayward hands tried something else, something he hadn’t done before.  Tom was at the sink in his typical shaving pose, one leg bent, hip cocked out to the side, head tilted and spine angled towards the mirror.  Chris enjoyed watching his morning routine, how Tom changed from a bleary-eyed, spiky-haired, shuffling mute to the eager, relentlessly cheerful creature that stood before him now.  A sure sign the transformation was almost complete was the sound of whistling or brief snatches of song drifting from the bathroom, although today those joyful noises were interspersed with muttered blasphemies.  
  
“Damn it!” Tom barked out for the fourth or fifth time, slamming his razor down on the edge of the sink to re-affix the towel slung around his hips before it slid off again.  Noticing Chris’s smirk behind him in the mirror, he smiled apologetically.  “Sorry, but I really hate your new towels.  They’re as slippery as silk and impossible to keep wrapped.”  
  
Chris shrugged, “I don’t mind them.  In fact, I’m really enjoying them right now.”  
  
Tom turned to look back at him in confusion but was interrupted by the loosening of the towel once more at his movement.  It had fallen open enough that Chris caught a glimpse of the outside edge of Tom’s hipbone and just a peek of the soft swell where his ass curved up from his thigh.  Tom scrambled to pull the rebellious material closed and scowled at Chris’s leer.    
  
“I can tell,” Tom replied in mock annoyance before turning back to the mirror to finish shaving.  
  
Chris just shrugged again and continued to watch as Tom expertly outlined the edge of his jaw down to his chin with the razor, careful to keep from accidentally shearing off the borders of his little ginger goatee.  Chris let his eyes roam down to where Tom had fastened the towel at the front of his thigh.  It was slowly sagging, the weight of the bunched material pulling down and threatening a collapse of the whole fragile construction.  He said nothing but silently cheered as it inched lower and lower until finally it gave way and slithered apart.  
  
“Damn!” Tom dropped the razor but failed to stop the towel as it fluttered free to the floor.  He huffed down at it and then kicked it aside in frustration.  “I’ve had enough of this idiotic thing.  You’ll get your free show aft-OW!”  
  
As if of its own accord, Chris’s hand had swung out and smacked one of Tom’s pale buttocks, leaving behind a startlingly red mark that was quickly fading.  There was moment of shocked silence and then Chris opened his mouth to apologize but Tom recovered first, “Did you just….What was _that_ for?”  
  
Chris struggled for an answer; he honestly wasn’t sure why he had done it.  Tom’s little tantrum at the towel had been adorable, not that he would ever tell him that – Tom did not appreciate being called cute or likened to small furry animals, no matter how apt the comparison really was – and Chris had given in to an almost instinctual urge to touch him somehow.  He could have just as easily run a hand through and petted the tufts of Tom’s drying hair.  Instead he had spanked him.  It was a little baffling.    
  
Rather than attempt to explain the unexplainable, Chris blurted out the first excuse that came to mind, “You were disrespecting my new linens.”  And immediately regretted it.  
  
Tom’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, which was quite impressive given the size of his forehead. “Disrespecting.  Your linens,” he repeated back slowly, the picture of disbelief.  
  
“Yes.” Chris kept his face stoic and crossed his arms.  
  
“And you don’t hold with that, do you? Any displays of insolence towards your towels?”    
  
“That’s right.”  Chris fought to keep his amusement at bay.  
  
Tom nodded his head in understanding, “I see.”  He looked from Chris to the fallen towel and back again in serious contemplation.  “So if I were to hurl verbal abuse at said towel, you would feel compelled to defend its…honor?”  
  
“Definitely.  Obligated, even.”  
  
“Obligated.  To your towel,” Tom raised an elegant eyebrow at him.  Chris hated that eyebrow, it was always skeptical, judging him.  Right now it seemed to be laughing at him.  
  
“Of course, it is _my_ towel after all.”  Chris stepped forward to frame Tom’s waist with his hands, making sure to rub the flannel of his pajama bottoms against Tom’s cock as he pushed a leg between his naked thighs.  Tom’s raised eyebrow joined its brother and crinkled inward as his eyes closed and his mouth fell open, a short gasp escaping his lips.  Chris deepened his voice, “And I always take excellent care of my things.”  
  
Tom regained his composure and narrowed his eyes mischievously, “Even of things not deserving of your care? Like towels that can’t even fulfill part of their two-fold purpose, to dry and cover?  You really should get rid of useless-Ah!”  
  
Chris had removed one of his hands from Tom’s waist and spanked him again, this time deliberately, jerking Tom’s body forward into Chris’s chest.  It had the added effect of sliding Tom’s cock against Chris’s thigh once more, eliciting another surprised sound from him.  Like most couples, there had been the occasional playful slap on the ass between them, but this was different.  Tom seemed to be seeking out Chris’s hand, provoking him, and Chris found himself looking forward to doling out more “punishment” in return.  
  
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Chris asked, grinning and completely unrepentant.    
  
Tom glared at him momentarily before smoothing his features into an innocent smile, “That we should have a nice fire in the living room this morning, fueled by subpar terrycloth and other cheap kindling.”  
  
It was Chris’s turn to raise his eyebrows, “Cheap?  Are you sure you want to escalate this from insulting a towel to insulting my taste?”  He gave Tom another short smack in warning.  
  
“Oh!” Tom breathed out.  “But I thought we had agreed to be completely honest with each other?”  
  
Chris decided to ignore yet another implication about his taste level, “Then you should know you can ask me for what you want, rather than goading me into it.”  
  
Tom tilted his head back to look Chris in the eye, “And you should know that I know that you enjoy being goaded.”  
  
“And you should know that I know that you know I enjoy being goaded,” Chris retorted, “And that you use it to your advantage.”  
  
“Pfft,” Tom scoffed.  “Of course I use it to my advantage; I need every advantage when it comes to you.”  Tom’s hand snaked its way down to cup Chris through his pajamas, squeezing him in a burst of pained pleasure that left Chris weak in the knees.   He caught the offending hand and curled it up behind Tom’s back.  “Now you’re not even being subtle,” Chris sighed.  
  
“I hadn’t realized I was being subtle before.  Perhaps you were just being dense?”  Tom pulled against Chris’s hold on his arm but made no complaint.  It wasn’t uncommon for Chris to manhandle him or for Tom to take pleasure in it, though usually it was done as a prelude to sex rather than what Chris had in mind.  
  
Chris ratcheted Tom’s arm up higher until he forced a grunt from him, then turned him around to face the sink and mirror once more, “And you are being stubborn.”  He let go of Tom but kicked his legs apart so he was forced to fall forward with both hands braced against the sink’s edge.  
  
Tom caught his eyes in the mirror and smiled triumphantly, then tilted his chin towards the built-in shelves to the left, “Use the lube there, please.  I’d rather not be coated in beard oil again.  At least not one made with peppermint.” He shuddered dramatically and bowed his head to wait for Chris to follow his instructions.  
  
Chris ran a hand through Tom’s hair then down the knobby bumps of his spine, causing Tom to shiver in response.  “Well?  Are you going to fuck me or not?  It’s getting a little chilly for hanging about in the nude, you know,” Tom complained, raising his head enough to look at Chris through the mirror again, his impatient little eyebrow lifted in question.  
  
“I’ll warm you up, Tom, don’t worry your pretty head about that.  I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been asking for,” Chris promised.  He pulled Tom’s hips back towards him, further angling Tom’s head and torso down towards the sink so that his rear was sticking up slightly higher.    
  
“You planning to jackhammer me?”  Tom’s eyes followed Chris’s movements in the mirror as he straightened and stepped from behind him to the side.  “Wait, where are-” And then he fell silent as the air fled his lungs from the impact of Chris’s hand on his left flank.  
  
“Is that all it takes to get you to shut up?”  Chris gave him a few more hard smacks then petted the abused skin.    
  
Tom groaned, then attempted to speak, “Wh-what are you doing?”  
  
“Now who’s being dense?  You’ve been behaving like a rude little boy so I’m going to spank you for it.” Chris pinched the inside of Tom’s thigh and hummed in approval at Tom’s jump.  Tom didn’t comment but let his head hang lower, his chin almost against his chest.  That wouldn’t do at all.  “No, Tom, I want your head up and eyes open.  You may have been successful in manipulating me into this, but I’m going to make you watch me do it.”  Chris’s voice brooked no argument and although it was done with obvious reluctance, Tom obediently did as he was told.  
  
Chris rarely got to see Tom so compliant; often there was an edge of competition to their coupling, a friendly rivalry to drag the most pleasure out of the other whilst still finding their own.  He savored his dominance, for once given and not won.  It was a heady feeling he knew he would want more of and he could only hope Tom felt the same way about his submission.  
  
He placed one hand on the small of Tom’s back then cracked his other palm heavily against the tense muscle of that beautiful ass several times in row.  It must have stung, the deep crimson of his hand’s imprint made it impossible to think otherwise, but still Tom made no sound.  He rocked back against Chris’s swing on the next impact as though urging him on.  Chris paused briefly to take in the state of him; abused pink and red ass, heaving torso, flushed cheeks, and most tellingly of all Tom’s cock was rising against his belly, clearly enjoying itself.     
  
“Is this what you wanted?”  He reached beneath Tom to circle his thumb and forefinger just below the head of Tom’s cock.  He held that hand motionless while bringing the other down against Tom’s rear again.  With a mutter that sounded more like a stifled plea than a complaint, Tom snapped his hips forward and back again with the motion of that strike, pushing his cock through the tight ring of Chris’s fingers.  He hissed through it, the dry skin of Chris’s hand catching along the sensitive flesh in a burning drag.  Tom tried to pry one of his hands loose from the porcelain of the sink to wrest Chris away from his cock, but the next hit made that impossible unless he wanted to run face first into the mirror.  
  
Chris glanced at Tom’s eyes where they looked back at him from his reflection; they were limned with unshed tears, his lashes dotted with a few drops of sweat that had rolled down his forehead.  That hated eyebrow, once so cocky, was now a broken thing, crumpled and pitiful.  Tom’s bright pink lips were panting in time with the rhythm of the blows and whatever Tom saw in return in the mirror caused him to exhale Chris’s name like a revelation.  
  
Chris stilled his spanking hand and removed the other from Tom’s cock to trail lightly up his chest to his neck.  He held Tom’s chin and leaned in to murmur in his ear, “Look at yourself, you’ll be begging me to fuck you in a minute.”  Tom tried to shake his head no, but Chris’s grip remained firm.  “You want this more than almost anything we’ve done so far.  If you admit it, I’ll give you my cock, otherwise you’ll have to make do with just my fingers.  What’ll it be?”  He released Tom’s chin and let his hand spread wide along his throat, a weight against which Tom’s Adam’s apple fluttered and bobbed liked a trapped creature as he swallowed.  
  
Tom’s mouth opened then closed again as he mustered himself to obey.  His voice was low and husky when he finally spoke, “Please, Chris, yes I wanted this.  Wanted you to punish me.  To…to spank me. Please, please give me your cock, I promise to be good if I can have it!”  
  
Oh if Tom’s words didn’t almost cause Chris to come right there.  He steadied himself, tamping down on the urge to just mount him and be done with it.  “Good boy, you’ll get my cock as soon as you’re ready for it.”  He let go of Tom and reached for the squeeze bottle of lube from the shelf which he then placed next to Tom’s white-knuckled hand on the lip of the sink.  “Prep yourself for me.”  
  
Tom shot him a murderous look for that, but shifted up on his forearms to coat one hand with the lube.  Chris pushed down his pajamas and settled himself down on the toilet seat cover to watch as Tom reached back and began opening himself up.  He allowed Tom to close his eyes, unwilling to spare a second to reprimand him as those slender fingers worked themselves further in, glossing his hole inside and out with lube.   “I expect you’ll want me to sit on you and do all the work myself?”  Tom tried to sound bored but the banked lust below the surface of his words betrayed him.  
  
“You know me too well.  Slick me up and have a seat.” Chris grinned up at him, accepting this small rebellion if it got him balls deep in that already bruising ass that much quicker.  Tom gave a long-suffering sigh and pushed off from the sink, wincing as the slightly swollen skin of his rear pulled and stretched at the movement.  He crouched and smoothed a hand over Chris’s thick cock, twisting the head a few times until Chris grunted and pulled him up and off.   Tom pivoted around in his grip to straddle him and present his back.  Chris eagerly took hold of one hip and lined himself up before urging Tom down.    
  
Unable to stop the tremor in his knees as the tip of Chris’s cock breeched him, Tom braced himself between the sink and the wall, struggling to control his descent.   “Hold onto me,” Chris had meant it as an order but it came out a breathless plea.  Tom nodded and folded forward to clutch beneath Chris’s thighs at his knees.   Not for the first time, Chris blessed whoever had introduced Tom to yoga.  
  
“Ready?”  He warned and Tom’s fingers dug into the soft flesh behind his knees before he slammed himself down onto Chris’s cock. They shared a mutual moan as their bodies adjusted.  Chris marveled at the warmth that still rolled off Tom’s skin from the spanking, so much more that he was used to.   Tom raised his hips up and down again several times, rendering Chris incapable of further observation.  The rhythm they found themselves in was far too slow for him, Tom hesitant to ride Chris harder than he had to out of deference to his tender bottom.    
  
Chris burrowed one hand under where Tom’s thigh jutted out from his hip and lifted him, taking control back.  Though he would deny it later, Tom actually squeaked as the new angle impaled him deeper.  Chris continued his work to find release, quickening his pace until Tom was bouncing up and down on his lap, his head lolling back, mouth open and eyes clamped shut. His name was a litany on Tom’s lips, a lustful prayer for relief in his touch.  
  
Desperate to end his own march towards the edge, Chris slid his hand from Tom’s hip to catch hold of his cock as it slapped against his belly.  He wrung the head with a sharp twist and then pumped it as Tom finally came, spotting his thighs and stomach with drops of white.  The sound of Tom’s stuttered shout brought Chris close, but it wasn’t until Tom’s sagging body tensed again, vise-like around him in overstimulation, that Chris dissolved into his own orgasm.  He filled Tom up in several long spurts until it spilled out around them as Tom weakly tried to wrench himself free of his cock.  
  
“No more, no more!” Tom moaned, barely above a whisper.  Chris patted the top of his thigh then helped him sit up and stand.  Tom staggered to take hold of the sink and stay upright, almost hugging it.   “Jesus, you almost killed me!” He accused Chris, pressing his cheek against the cool surface to glare at him.  
  
Chris waved away his recriminations and panted out, “I could…I could say the same about-about you.”  
  
Tom unfurled himself from his porcelain crutch, his leg muscles twitching in protest, “You didn’t have your tanned hide rubbed raw.”  
  
“Whatever,” Chris dismissed him, “Hand me a towel.”  
  
“You mean one of your precious linens?  How is that respectful?”  
  
“For god’s sake, Tom, it’s just a towel.  Give it here.”  
  
“Only if I get a turn at you for contempt of your own property,” Tom demanded.  
  
Chris eyed him speculatively, “Let me clean myself with it first, you need evidence for a crime to have occurred.  Then let me make us some breakfast to recover before we go another round.”    
  
Tom smiled in agreement, and raised a finger as another idea came to him, “And then once your arse is as sore as mine, I’ll treat you to some new towels.  Sound fair?”  
  
Chris surged up from his seat to pull Tom into a kiss, swallowing down his whimper as he kneaded his aching cheeks, “It’s a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a belated birthday present for [hannibalisms](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalisms) who requested Hiddlesworth spanking.
> 
> You can also find this on my [tumblr](http://velociraptor-hands.tumblr.com/post/37098272045/throw-in-the-towel-hiddlesworth-pwp).


End file.
